Too Late
by enzyyme
Summary: Before and after James Nicholl's went off to war, and the heartbreak he left in his wake
1. Too Late

"James!" A shrill woman's voice cried in despair. "Don't go!" The woman was pleading, begging, trying to be strong and failing.

The tall thin captain, in full uniform and ready to do the exact opposite as she was asking, crossed the room to her. He tried to take her into his arms, where her small frame fit so perfectly, where she had previously felt safety and warmth.

"Emma," he cooed "You know I have to…" the hurt shown clearly like a mirror through his blue eyes. This was hurting him as much as it was hurting her.

The woman pushed him away, against her every instinct and every ounce of her being. More than anything she wanted him to hold her now, and never let go of her.

"But why?" She demanded "You're going to DIE out there James! I KNOW it. I just know!" Emma's voice was angry now because he was giving her that look. That look that said ___you're being foolish and I don't know what to do__._

But she wasn't crying. James thought he might have preferred tears to this… this defiant strength.

"You_don't_know that. Plenty of men _don't_ die in wars, darling. Besides… I've already been given orders."

The small woman before him crossed her arms over her chest, lifting one hand to press against her lips as if she were silencing an ocean of words.

"I'm going to lose you" she whispered finally. "You're going to leave me here all alone. I can't do this without you." Emma looked up at him now, no more anger in her eyes; only sadness. It broke James's heart more than any yelling, or rage, or hateful words could have done. It was the eerie calmness she suddenly had as if she simply looked into the future and knew what was going to happen. He stared at her, his mouth half open as if there were possibly something he could say to that.

"You don't have any faith that I'll survive?" he asked finally with a forced smile. A joke, to try and relieve some tension.

"I have plenty of faith in you, love. What I don't have faith in is war, and battles, and countries using soldiers like a child's game to do the work for them. This is bigger than before, James… Oh James…" Finally she went to him, hugging him fiercely to her. In that moment she took in his familiar scent, his warmth, the sound of his heart keeping precious time. "James." she whispered again, tears finally making their way to well up in her eyes but she fought them bag. "Please."

"My dear," James murmured, frowning and holding her as tightly as he could. He kissed the top of her head, stroking her soft brown hair. She smelled of vanilla and pomegranates, love, familiarity. Her unwavering fear and concern was beginning to shed light on some things he had previously been trying to supress.

A woman. Each man he would meet and each man he would steal life from, each man who would die in this war, would have a woman like this. A magnificent creature of deceiving strength. Perhaps they would be mothers, sisters, daughters even. Or simply lovers.

He imagined thousands of these women, angry and scared, crying, begging their men to stay, not go away to fight. As if all of them could simply reach into the future with their minds and see the end. Those men would not listen. And many of those men would never return to those wonderful women again.

He imagined thousands of women, crying, screaming, grieving. He imagined Emma among them. All weeping for their thousands of foolish soldiers who ran off to serve another woman - their countries.

___If we all just listen to our women and stay home, maybe we wouldnt even have a war to fight in the first place__,_ James thought as he clung to Emma.

He would be the reason many of those women would be robbed of beloved family and dear ones. And maybe he would be one of those men. Leaving his love to pick up the pieces and live without him, eventually finding a new man to care for her, maybe one that would listen.

"I'm so sorry" James gasped, swallowing the lump in his throat.

When she pulled away to look up into his face, he expected anger or more lectures. All he saw was her raw terror, and her sadness - so much sadness, that he reflected right back in his own eyes - but he also saw her unfailing love. And together their hearts broke as one.

"I know" she replied softly, brushing away the tear that had escaped to drift down his handsome face. She straightened his jacket lapels, patting them down, taking all of him in as fast as she could as she knew their time together was fleeting.

"I know you have to go. I just pray you will return to me." she gave him a sad smile as she reached up to hold his face between her hands.

"I love you James Nicholls" Emma went on, her voice trembling now. "Come back to me."

"I love you more than anything... And I will come back to you Emma, I wll." James replied, taking her hands gently in his own and kissing them before pulling her to him again to kiss her fiercely on the mouth.

Emma was done with her resistance. It was obviously of no use. So she surrendered and clung to the last beautiful moments with him. She would not ruin their goodbyes with resentment and anger.

When their lips separated at last, James rested his forehead against hers and sighed, closing his eyes and breathing her in. He was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she was right, scared of all the lives he would end, scared of what would happen to her if he died.

After he left the house, Emma stared after him in the doorway long after he was out of sight. Only then did her tears fall, viciously without mercy. She was prepared for the worst, but would be praying with all her might for a safe return.

Everything James did after that point he did as if he wasnt really sure what was real anymore. He purchased a fine horse and broke a boys heart - in turn a mother's heart as well. Did it ever end? And he hadn't even been to battle yet.

He kept himself busy, distracting himself from all his fears and his homesickness. Emma was constantly on his mind. He saw her all around him, in the wildflowers, in the swallows, in the laughing creeks.

But all too soon the first plan of attack was upon him. His first battle of this new war.

It was a surprise attack, on six hundred men. They wouldn't be prepared, or even see them coming. Why couldn't they just have honest and valiant battle? Face to face? But alas, this was war. There were no rules here.

As they charged the camp, James imagined all the men currently alive and breathing, who would soon be dead at his hand. Their faces burned in his mind as he struck down one after the other from the back of his strong horse. Then as they drove the frightened Germans into the forest, he saw the guns hidden in the brush, taking down everyone in their path with a deafening roar.

This was it.

The realization hit him so strongly he nearly fell from his mount without any aid from the enemy.

It was a trap. There would be no escape. Emma was right. Emma.

He was reduced from a war hero to a mere boy in that instant.

___NO._He thought,_not yet. I promised her._

He wanted to turn back time, or simply to flee, to crawl back to her and beg forgiveness, hold her and never let her go.

It was too late.


	2. What James Would Have Wanted

The officer knocked on the door in full uniform. He held a small envelope in his hand and a heavy heart in his chest. Delivering offical notices of death was the hardest part about being in the military. He could serve his country just fine elsewhere: parades, camps, even battlefields. But this was the worst thing he could think of. Nothing was more difficult than looking a mother, sister, wife, daughter, in the eye and telling them that their soldier would not be coming home.

The small young woman caught sight of the familiar colors and for a second she smiled despite herself. Then she opened the door the rest of the way and the smile froze before falling to a blank stare up at the man before her. She stared at his bristly black moustache, unable to focus on anything else. Her mind completely froze and refused to take in any information, but she knew what this visit was about and it wasn't good.

"Miss Emma Reed?" the officer asked quietly as he removed his hat, used to the shocked look as the brain refused to let reality sink in right away.

"Yes," Emma breathed.

"A note for you, ma'am." he said softly, holding the envelope out to her. Both of them knew what that meant.

The woman's chin quivered so she jutted it out and clenched her jaw to try and be strong in front of the officer.

"Thank you." she choked, taking it from him with more force than she intended.

"My condolences," the man said sympathetically.

He was met with silence in return as Emma looked down at the envelope, feeling as she were living one big nightmare. She'd imagined this day. She'd imagined many alternative endings to James's service but this had been one of the ones she hated the most.

After the officer left her to read her letter in peace, Emma sat down on the porch steps. Her skirts blew about her legs which made her look up. The sun was smiling down on her with just enough warmth, making her hair shine like gold. The breeze caressed her as if trying to console her for what she was about to officially read to be true. Birds were singing in the trees, insects buzzed, it was in general one of the most beautiful days they'd had in a long while. It was as if mother nature was trying to make up for the news she had received.

That news sat like a stone in her hands. Unopened, unread.

But finally she gathered her strength, dried her sweating hands on her skirts, and then proceeded to open the letter.

Madam

It is my painful duty to inform you that a report has been received from the War Office notifying the death of James Robert Nicholls...

Emma hardly read the rest as her eyes were blinded by a sudden onset of tears. It was a pre-typed letter with James's personal information filled in the blanks. She felt anger as soon as she saw this. They hadn't even bothered to write out the whole thing themselves, whoever they were. There was a part at the end about the King and Queen sending their sympathy and she laughed coldly. The King and Queen didn't even know who James was. But Emma had known him. She was the only one who really ever had. And he was gone... stolen from her in the night by his mistress, England.

As much as she hated herself for it, she felt angry at James as well. She'd predicted this, and warned him. She'd begged and pleaded and done everything but weep at his feet like a child. Maybe that would have helped.

All the negative emotions poured through her like a hurricane raging between her ribs. With a heart shattering scream she threw the letter away from her and turned to pound her fists on the porch. Splinters dug into her soft skin, dirt smudged her clothes and her face but there was nothing left for her to care about in the world. A torrential downpour of tears soaked her face and fell in quiet droplets onto the wood beneath her as she had her little fit. She pounded until her hands ached too much to continue, at which point she just folded her arms, hid her face in them, and sobbed bitterly. Her shoulders shook like an earth quake, her breath coming in gasps as if she were drowning in a tsumani. Emma had braced herself for this day, but her preparations were not good enough. It had still caught her off guard, still ripped her heart out of her chest and trampled on it. But she felt far from dead. No, right now she felt so alive. She could feel the pain of every woman in the world who had ever received the news her man would not be returning home.

After all her tears had fallen, Emma picked herself up off the step and numbly retrieved her notice before going inside. The door shut softly and she locked it. Then she turned her empty gaze to her small house. James had promised her he would share this house with her someday - when they were married of course. Now what would she do? She didn't have the energy or will power to think about it just now.

Emma turned to the hearth, and saw his portrait looking back at her.

"James... I told you so." Emma whispered as her brow creased and her lips downturned into a frown. "What am I going to do without you?"

Sighing, Emma decided to start with taking care of the splinters biting into her hands. She didnt have to pull the splinters out of her heart just yet, they would be there for a while.

Emma was a strong woman though, and while her life was falling down around her and the only man she had and ever would love was gone from her forever, she was determined to continue living her life. It wasn't a matter of forgetting or getting over James. It was just what James would have wanted. Besides, had he not promised her that he would return? She looked for him every day, even though the notice of death lay crumpled on the hearth next to his portrait. Emma's eyes were blind to other men and sympathetic looks from men and women alike. She did enough feeling sorry for herself, she didn't need anyone else contributing to her pity.

Emma began speaking regularly with a priest, feeling that he was the only one who could help her now. The priest didn't show her pity or give her that familiar sad look. Instead he comforted her, with Bible verses and hymns, and never let her forget that James would be waiting for her at the gates of Heaven. He was the only person alive who could bring Emma a temporary peace of mind.

But once she walked back through that front door of her cottage, the emptiness that met her broke her heart all over again. It was a battle every single day to get out her bed and live. But not everyone got that liberty, and it was what James would have wanted.


	3. No One Home

Terror.

Searing pain.

Darkness.

Deafening thunder.

Nothing.

Then birds were singing. Slowly, blue eyes opened to be met with a blindingly cheerful sun. As if the sun was congratulating him on the fact his heart still happened to be beating.

At that moment, the man didn't feel lucky at all. He couldn't remember anything, couldn't think, because he was in so much pain, and a heavy weight lay over him like a blanket.

When he looked down to see what this weight was, he was surprised to find himself trapped beneath bodies of soldiers with faces that struck a chord inside him. He had known these men.

What the befuddled soldier didn't realize was that these men had saved his life. As the Germans combed the field for the injured they passed right over him, kicked the body of the soldier on top of the pile, and continued on.

Germans. Soldiers.  
It was coming back to him now.

He'd been shot. But in his current state everything was hurting equally and he couldn't focus.

Carefully he began maneuvering out from beneath his fellow soldiers and tried to stand. This was a mistake, as he suddenly was overwhelmed with dizziness and brought right back down to the ground.

As he sat in the middle of a field of corpses, the soldier decided to start with what he knew to be true in hopes it would get the wheels turning in his brain again.

James Nicholls.

James Robert Nicholls.

26 years of age.

Enlisted as a Captain in the Royal Army.

Emma.

His heart pounded a little faster as her memory sliced through his foggy thoughts like a knife.

"You were wrong" he breathed, his eyes wide as he spoke, as if he couldn't possibly believe it. The man was in utter shock. He should be dead. She had been absolutely correct, and he should have been dead. What miracle was this that he was still alive?

It didn't matter. All he knew was that he had to get to her as soon as possible. This was his second chance and he was never leaving her again.

Forgetting where he was, he tried to get to his feet again, only to stumble back to his hands and knees. He felt faint and sore, and his shoulder was killing him. James inspected it further to find an open wound, and blood everywhere.

Emma might not be wrong after all. There was still the possibility that he would die before he ever got to her. That seemed like such a shame, to come so far, survive the attack that should have killed him, only to die of the aftermath.

"No" he choked, his voice coming out as an angry sob. "No."

He would crawl all the way to her doorstep if had to, and die on her porch if only he could see her face again and tell her he was sorry. So sorry.

James slumped to the ground again, his face against the earth. He shut his eyes and tried to calm his breathing as he thought of Emma. He knew she was religious, and even though he claimed to be, James often preferred to try and fix his problems himself. But this was a problem he could not fix, and he knew he would have to ask for help.

"Please God," he sobbed his fists clenching and pulling up grass. He was the picture of ultimate desperation. "Let me live to see her again. Please." the soldier begged, tears trickling down his face leaving clean trails amongst the dirt on his skin.

James wasn't sure how long he was lying there before he heard the familiar sound of a horse running nearby.

He lifted his head to see a figure in the distance and in one last desperate effort he yelled with all his might. James yelled incomprehensible things, or anything that came to mind such as "please! Help me!" to Emma's name. Anything to get that riders attention.

He managed to struggle to his knees and wave his good arm around in the air, terrified of being left here alone to die again.

He'd never heard a sweeter sound than the horse's hooves slowing and coming closer. The last thing the soldier saw before he blacked out again was the concerned face of an older gentleman.

When James came to for the second glorious time, he found himself in a tiny room, lying on a bed, dressed in only another man's pajama bottoms. His shoulder ached even more and upon a second inspection, he found it neatly wrapped up.

James sent a quick "thank you" heavenward then turned his attention to the door at the far corner of the room as it began to open.

A young woman – about Emma's age – peeked her head in the room to check on him. She had blonde hair and the biggest bluest eyes he'd ever seen. "How do you feel Captain?" the woman asked him amiably, letting herself in.

"Absolutely dreadful, but alive"

"Wonderful. I suppose you're wondering whats happened" the stranger went on, and with a nod from James, continued to explain.

"My father was breaking a horse and it took off with him... he came across the battlefield and was trying to get the horse to turn around when they heard your cry for help. He said that horse had the best manners after that and they were able to get you here... My brother is a physician. He cleaned and dressed your wounds. He says you're extremely lucky to even be alive right now..."

"I am," James breathed in disbelief. "Thank you, so much. Is the rest of your family here that I may thank them as well?"

The girl shook her head "No, my brother Gregory was called to another appointment and my father is in town. He'll return later this evening though. My name is Hannah." she offered him a warm smile.

"Captain James Nicholls, its very wonderful to meet you" he couldn't help but smile back at her, overwhelmed with joy at his turn of luck. Someone was watching out for him or something...

"Not to be rude, but did your brother happen to say when I could travel again?" he asked suddenly, noting the quickly hidden look of disappointment on Hannah's face.

"As soon as you feel strong enough" she chimed, her smile slightly forced this time.

"I'm sorry, forgive me. Its completely rude of me to act as if I can't wait to get away, its just... I have a woman waiting for me who thinks me dead." James finished quietly, giving Hannah a smile smile. This girl was innocent and naïve and maybe she had fancied the idea of him – the injured soldier nursed to health by her own hands. But nothing was going to keep him away from Emma. "This is my second chance. And I must go to her" he added softly.

Hannah's forced politeness faded back into a soft demeanor and she nodded knowingly. "Do not apologize Captain. You have every right to wish to leave. What a lucky woman she is. I will gather your things. Your uniform took quite a beating but you can borrow some of my father's clothes if you wish. And you must eat before you leave of course," Hannah insisted, busying herself about the room before promising she'd soon return and leaving him alone again.

While he waited, James tested his strength slowly and carefully. When he was finally able to walk around the room without getting dizzy he considered it a great accomplishment.

Hannah brought him a simple but hearty meal and he hungrily ate every crumb she handed to him.

As much as James wanted to leave at that exact moment, he was not yet strong enough. He'd rather arrive at Emma's door standing straight than unconscious once again.

Over the next few days he ate like a boy again and thanked Hannah's father every chance he got. With his determination, his will power to get better in order to see Emma's face, and the good care Hannah took of him, he soon regained his strength. It was the longest week of his life, and he was nowhere near being fully recovered yet but he could wait no longer.

Promising to return, he borrowed a horse from Hannah's father and began the long ride back home.

The sun was just beginning its descent when Emma's cottage came into view. James's heart leaped in his chest and he felt tears welling up behind his eyes. At last he would see her again. Against all odds, he had finally made it back to her. He urged his horse into a gallop and they raced on towards the house. He practically flew off the back of the beast and floated up the stairs to knock politely on the door. His heart was racing, he couldn't wipe the boyish grin off his face, and he was suddenly extremely nervous. But no one ever answered his knocking.

There was no one home.

* * *

A/N: Sorry these are a little short as far as fanfic chapters seem to go haha. I'm just getting into this and having fun with it. I would really appreciate it if you could review or leave feedback etc. It helps knowing people are actually reading this haha ;] So let me know what you think. I promise I don't bite!


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